


Shift in Alignment

by writergirl75



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl75/pseuds/writergirl75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My small take on the "Felicity gets hurt and Oliver has to deal with his feelings" scenario - with Digg dosing out his usual wisdom to both parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shift in Alignment

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to experiment and move something over from FF.net to see what it was like - So A03 newbie alert. 
> 
> This started out as the Halloween entry in some bits of Olicity holiday nonsense that I was writing, but it eventually turned into something a little more serious. Thanks for reading.

Felicity sat on the edge of an emergency room table trying to convince the too young doctor who was stitching her forehead that her injury was the result of falling on her front stairs.

In the hall she saw Diggle pacing back and forth. He was still dressed like a fireman. Thank goodness for Halloween.

"Really, you know, running in heels," she added. "Just something I should avoid."

The doctor gave her a skeptical look. Why was it that Digg and Oliver were content to repair a bullet wound on their own, but she had to go to the hospital for three stitches?

"Miss Smoak," he said firmly, tying off the last stitch. "I saw the gentleman you came in with, and if you're in an unsafe situation…"

"Unsafe with Digg?' she said, laughing. Ow, that hurt.

The incredulity in her voice did what her lame stories hadn't. "Okay, then," the doctor said. Pulling off a prescription for pain medication and handing it to her. "You can go."

"Thanks," she said, she hopped down off the table and instantly regretted it, taking it much more slowly as she walked into the hall.

Digg looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "Yikes.".

"I'm fine," she insisted, walking to stand next to him.

He looked at the ceiling and back down. "You have a bruise the size of Oklahoma on your face, and I know that isn't everything."

She rolled her eyes. Even that hurt. "So, what now?"

"Now you go home," Digg said.

Felicity took a step back. "There might still be poisoned candy out there and you want me to go home?"

Digg looked uncomfortable for a moment and she understood. "Ah, Oliver told you to send me home."

He nodded. "Not that I don't get it. You were almost killed today."

"Oliver's almost killed every day," she snapped. A nurse walking by gave her a curious look and she lowered her voice. "So are you. What makes this any different?"

Digg gave her a look. It was the look he gave Oliver when Oliver was being particularly dumb or stubborn. She'd never been on the receiving end before. It wasn't pleasant. "Come on," he said. "You know what makes this different."

"Because I'm a girl?" she said. It was the first time in her life she'd ever wanted to hit John Diggle.

"Maybe, a bit," Digg admitted. "But that isn't all of it." His face grew serious. "You didn't see him when he heard those gunshots Felicity. He looked like he'd been ripped in two."

She swallowed hard and put a hand to her head. It really did hurt.

"You're special to him, Felicity. What that means in that odd, dark little brain of his, I don't know," Digg said.

"Special," she echoed. She wished she had about two hundred aspirin. Was "special" a good thing or a bad thing?

"Let me drive you home," Digg said.

"Okay," she agreed, and waved her prescription. "Can we go get my good drugs first?"

Digg smiled. "Absolutely."

When Digg came back into the basement Oliver looked up. Fighting to keep his voice casual he said. "She okay?"

Digg nodded, "She's mad at you though."

Oliver let out half a tired laugh. "I can live with that." He had known today was a particularly thorny risk, but she'd been so eager to volunteer. Just like she always was. He heard the shots again in his mind and closed his eyes. Now that he knew what it felt like to have things go wrong, he didn't know how he was going to ever let her do it again.

"You're going to have to find a way to deal with this," Digg said.

"Deal with what?" Oliver said, his words coming out sharp.

"Felicity in the line of fire," Diggle said. "I know you want to protect her, I definitely get that. But she's earned her spot on this team."

Oliver glared at Digg. "It's my team."

"So, what? You send her packing because you actually care about her?" He shook his head. "That's not fair, man."

All of the fight drained out of Oliver, it really sucked when Digg said out loud the things he knew but was trying to ignore. He sank into a chair – Felicity's chair. "I know," to his own surprise he felt moisture in his eyes. "I thought she was dead, John."

The basement fell quiet as Oliver struggled to get a hold of himself. That grief he had felt, however transitory, had cracked something open inside him that he was afraid he could not shut off. He'd lost so many people, but he'd forgotten just how fresh and specific that knife wound of loss could be. It had a tendency to make things clear whether you wanted them to be or not.

"You okay?' Diggle asked.

Oliver stood up. "Nope." He grabbed his jacket and slung it on.

"What are you going to do?" Digg asked as he walked out the door.

Oliver didn't answer, because as usual, with everything in his life that didn't require a bow, he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

Her doorbell rang. And then it rang again. She ignored it. She had bought candy on the odd chance she was home, but her face was just too scary looking, even for Halloween. She sat on the couch with her tablet in hand, buried in blankets, and slightly foggy from pain medication.

She jumped as the doorbell ringing turned into a loud insistent knock. "Felicity?"

By the time she unburied herself and made it to the door, the knock, and Oliver's voice grew more frantic. "I'm here!" she called as she yanked open the door. "I do have a headache you know."

His arms were full of bags. "Trick or treat."

Sighing, she stepped back from the door. Even with a whole afternoon to consider it she still wasn't clear on what to say to him. She was annoyed he'd benched her and yet grateful that he'd saved her life, again. She settled for something obvious. "What's all that?"

He gave her a nervous smile and came inside. "Supplies; Chinese food, bagels, coffee, you know, stuff. I didn't figure you'd feel up to heading out tonight, and we both know you don't cook."

How did he know she couldn't cook?

She was starving. "Are you trying to bribe me into a good mood?"

The nervous smile came back as he walked to set the bags on her kitchen counter. What was with him? "A little," he admitted. "Is it working?"

"A little," she echoed, but as he handed her a box of her favorite lo mein, she couldn't help but smile.

She saw his eyes travel over her and she looked down. She'd certainly dressed for comfort in cartoon mouse pajama bottoms and a pink V-neck t-shirt. And brushing her hair would have been an act of torture at the moment. "Sorry, I wasn't dressing for company."

"I was just checking for damage," he said stiffly. "You look…" he stopped, his jaw tightened and he tilted his head. It was an expression she recognized as a moment when he was keeping himself from doing or saying something. "Should we sit and eat?" he said finally

Felicity walked toward the kitchen cabinets and as usual he didn't move out of her way, forcing her to pass within inches of him. To her surprise he reached out to steady her waist as she reached high into the cabinet for plates, trying hard not to favor a knee that had also been banged up in today's adventures.

He took the plates from her. "Sit down," he said. "I'll get it."

That surprised her even more. She couldn't remember him ever doing something so mundane for her, or for anyone else for that matter. It just usually wasn't even on his radar. He dished the food onto plates, found forks, and brought it to her with a glass of water. When he returned for his own plate, she shoved blankets out of the way, making room for him on her small, slightly scruffy couch. He sat down, but nearly as far away from her as he could. They took a few bites and then he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore and loopy," she said, swallowing a bite of food. "But okay."

"Good," he said. "If your leg isn't better tomorrow you should have a doctor check that out too."

"My leg?" she tried to act innocent.

He shot her a knowing look. "I can tell when people move differently. It's probably just bruised, but with knees you can't be too careful."

"This from a guy who routinely stitches up his own knife wounds," Felicity said.

"Fine," he said. "Then if it's not better I'll look at it."

"Doctor Queen," she said mockingly.

He smiled a little and shook his head. "Combat medic."

They ate a few more bites and then she couldn't stand it anymore. This whole thing was just too weird. "Oliver, why are you here?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, still looking at his plate he said. "I had to see that you were okay."

She smiled even though it hurt a bit to do so. "I went to the doctor, Digg brought me home, what did you think had happened in two hours?"

"That's not what I meant." He looked up at her, and the gaze was so intense it was almost uncomfortable. "I had to … had to know that you're still here."

"I'm still here," she said quietly, meeting his gaze. He looked away then and they ate a few more bites in silence. Suddenly Oliver stood up.

Pacing away from her a few steps, he said, "I thought you were dead, Felicity. Gone - because I didn't get to you in time."

"It isn't your fault if I get hurt any more than it's my fault when you do." She said, trying to keep her voice calm. "We're supposed to be partners, remember?"

"Do you think that would matter to how I feel?" he said, turning on her, almost angry.

"It should." She said firmly, wishing her brain was working just a little bit better for such an important conversation. "Digg's been hurt before. And you've never acted like this."

"That's different," he snapped.

"How is it different?" she said, and winced as the loud voice rattled her head.

He froze and swallowed hard. "It just is." She could see him shutting off, shutting down.

"No, you don't," she demanded. "Oliver, talk to me."

He looked up at the ceiling, and when his gaze met hers again all of the hardness was gone from his features. "All I could think about … was everything I had never said…never done."

"So say it now," she said, feeling an odd tingling spark of hope. "Do it now.'

"I can't." He said giving her a small sad smile. "I can't start something when I don't…You deserve better than that."

"Sit down," she said softly. When he shook his head and turned away she said again, in her firm schoolteacher voice, "Oliver, sit down."

He turned back and some of the anguish had been replaced with a weary humor. "You know you're about the only person in the world who can boss me around."

That made her smile. "So listen."

With a weary sigh he sank onto her couch, this time sitting only a few inches from her.

"How about this, you give me one piece of what you were thinking today. Just one of those things you wanted to say," she said. At his sharp glance she held up her hands. "And those words can stay right here in this room, in this minute."

"Fine," one corner of his mouth quirked up and he said. "You're beautiful."

It caught her off guard; it had not been what she was expecting. She put a hand to her mess of hair. "Now?"

He let out a surprised laugh and then nodded. "Yes now, but I meant in general."

She swallowed hard. "I didn't think you'd noticed."

"Oh, I've always noticed. I'm Oliver Queen remember? I'm just better at hiding my reactions than you are."

"Well, it might be different if I, like you, walked around without a shirt all the time." She winced as she realized what she'd said.

Instead of his usual deadpan expression at her unintentionally racy word usage he let out a hiss of breath. "You have got to stop doing that. Do you have any idea how visual my brain is?"

She opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again, and then shut it again.

"Huh, speechless," he said with a hint of teasing. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course," she croaked. "I just didn't know you …"

"Had an imagination?" he finished, still teasing. Then his face got serious, "I just try not to let it get in the way of what I need to do. A trick I learned on the island."

They went silent for a few moments. Felicity's medication addled brain tried to process everything that had just happened. "See you can tell me stuff. And the planets didn't shift in alignment or anything."

He looked into her eyes again. "Oh, I think maybe they did." For just a few seconds she thought, just maybe, he was going to kiss her. Then he shook his head and stood up. "I should go," he said.

She pointed at his plate. "You had three bites of that."

"I've seen you take on Chinese leftovers before. I'm not worried," he said, turning and giving her an easy smile. Almost a relieved smile. "Thank you."

She was baffled. "For what?"

He took another step back. "Whatever else we might…" he stopped, and gestured between them. "I don't want to lose this. You are my partners, Felicity, you and Digg. You're as much the Arrow as I am. I'm sorry if I pushed you out of the game today."

This statement meant as much to her as anything else he had said that night. "I do feel like crap," she admitted.

"Then my work is done," he said, grinning. "Will you take a couple days off? I promise to call if there's anything we can't handle."

"I'll think about it," she agreed.

He took a long slow breath, put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She felt the warmth of it flood through her and she swallowed. Too soon, he pulled back and moved toward the front door, then he stopped. "One more thing. Though I've already told you this."

"What?" she asked, curious.

"You are, in fact, remarkable," he said.

She smiled, and pulled the reply from her memory. "Thank you for remarking on it."

He opened the door and a crowd of little kids went by. One of the little boys had a green hood and a toy bow and arrow. Oliver looked back at her shaking his head in happy disbelief. "Happy Halloween, Felicity."


End file.
